To Hell with Blood Prejudice
by ChaosGamer
Summary: Draco finds Hermione sitting on the cold street on Christmas Eve... Inspired by The Little Match Girl. Dramione. DHr.
1. Chapter 1

In the cold, dark, and snowing street of Diagon Alley, in the winter of 1998, seven months after the end of Second Wizarding War, Draco turned up the collar of his favorite winter cloak as he walked down the lane. The streets were alight with Christmas decorations; bright, neon-like signs depicting a red sock, a reindeer, a sleigh, and all that sort, hanging from the shop windows. People were bustling around, big smiles on their faces; Draco prowled by, his face twisted by a scowl. What sort of care did he have for Christmas? Other wizards may have a reason to be merry, but same did not go for him. Tomorrow was the so called Christmas Day; season to be jolly his hat. He had no reason to be happy. Life never really did give him a reason to be cheerful.

So what if his household emulated dismal feelings? So what if his parents never bothered to fully acknowledge his presence? So what if the family dinners held every night were graced with mere curt conversations? He didn't care.

Really, he didn't.

Draco grimaced, masking his true feelings deep down within him. A bad habit from the War Time, he supposed. He always subconsciously reinforced his Occlumency.

He stalked on, his eyes set on buying presents for his parents, albeit involuntarily. His eyes spotted a shop window, magical objects on the display illuminated by the light inside. Walking closely to the shop window, Draco contemplated about the types of presents his parents might enjoy.

Why wasn't he surprised when he had no idea what to buy?

Walking up to the other side of the road, he spotted a a witch sitting on the sidewalk, her knees on her face and her arms covering her drawn up legs. Not bothering a second glance, Draco walked inside.

"Welcome!" Said an overjoyous, merry shopkeeper. "To my humble shop. if you see anything that interests you, just ask!"

The shopkeeper had an uncanny resemblance to Mr. Clean. Chuckling, the shopkeeper went back to counting his profits from that day. The shopkeeper's cheery attitude also reminded him of the late Florence Fortescue... Draco looked down toward his boots. That Ice cream man used to give kids - including him - free ice creams, every half an hour... Until he was dragged off by the Death Eaters. To be interrogated for the information of the Elder Wand, according to his father. Never to be seen again.

Shaking away the gloomy thoughts, he turned his attention to the objects on the display. Upon a small well sanded wooden platform there stood a minute sun, suspended in midair, with eight planets orbiting around it.

His mother always did like Astronomy.

Lifting a box labeled _Orbiting Solar System_ beneath the display, he carried it toward the counter.

* * *

Carrying a shopping bag, Draco stepped out of the shop. His gaze met the girl sitting on the sidewalk once again. But it was not pity which made him look at her. It was a sense of familiarity.

He vaguely remembered seeing that bushy hair... the brown curls reaching below her shoulders, covering her face, decorated by a light sheet of snow.

Draco took a look around; no one else bothered to give the girl a second glance. Placing his box gently on the sidewalk, he shook her. There was no response. Brushing the snow off of her hair, he placed his hand on her forehead; it was burning. Frowning, he cupped her face, turning it toward him to get a good view.

It was Hermione.

"Granger?" Draco muttered, dumbfounded. Of all places to be why was she here? Sitting on the sidewalk of the Diagon Alley, her face pale, her lips a delicate shade of blue. Sweet aroma of mead rose from the small space between her lips.

Why was she sitting here? Where were the Saint Scarhead and the Weasel King? To think that the hero of the war, sitting on a side of the road like a hobo was laughable. Ludicrous.

He could just leave her there, he supposed. He never really cared particularly to the Golden Trio's wellbeing. He took another glance around him. The streets were not exactly empty, with many people walking around. But no one bothered to check whether a girl on a side of a road was okay. Bloody bystanders. Good Samaritans were rarer than rooster's teeth.

Good Samaritans… Where did he hear that from? Draco slowly lifted his gaze up to the night sky as he reflected back to the past.

_A Jewish man was traveling from Jerusalem down to Jericho, and he was attacked by bandits. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him up, and left him half dead beside the road._

Sodding hell, this was not the time to be quoting Jesus. The spirit of the Christmas must be getting to him.

_By chance a priest came along. But when he saw the man lying there, he crossed to the other side of the road and passed him by. A Temple assistant walked over and looked at him lying there, but he also passed by on the other side._

How similar to unconcerned bystanders. Draco gave a grim smile.

_Then a despised Samaritan came along, and when he saw the man, he felt compassion for him._

Despised. Well, he was despised, he supposed... But did he feel compassion for her?

_Going over to him, the Samaritan soothed his wounds with olive oil and wine and bandaged them. Then he put the man on his own donkey and took him to an inn, where he took care of him. The next day he handed the innkeeper two silver coins, telling him, 'Take care of this man. If his bill runs higher than this, I'll pay you the next time I'm here.'_

"_Now which of these three would you say was a neighbor to the man who was attacked by bandits?" Jesus asked._

Neighbor... Who was his neighbor? His eyebrows furrowing, he reflect on his past. His thought he knew his friends and enemies back then. The Golden Trio was his enemies and the side of evil were his friends... or so he had thought. As he grew up, clashed between the power struggles, he was forced to do things he was highly reluctant to do. His friends were turning against him, and his enemies were his saviors... He was tired of lies and deceit. The only thing he wanted for Christmas was a true friend...

_The man replied, "The one who showed him mercy."_

Mercy...

_Then Jesus said, "Yes, now go and do the same."_

Heaving a sigh, he lifted up the straps of his shopping bag up to his shoulders, and lifted up Hermione in his arms. He had expected far heavier load; in reality it was like carrying a sack of skin and bones.

He briefly wondered what his parent's reaction would be if he brought her home.


	2. Chapter 2

Malfoy staggered into the house, shutting the door closed and locking it with inhibited wave of his wand. Draco desperately hoped that his father was not home at this moment.

"Back from shopping, Draco?" A voice called out from the dark shadow of another room. Draco froze as Lucius stepped out from an unlit room, eyes bloodshot, his face slightly red, with very slight sway. His eyes turned toward Hermione. "...I see that you brought a bird." His gaze turned back to Draco. "Any reason why?"

Draco did his best to look cool and unconcerned. "Ah, you know, met a chick in a bar, she got smashed, decided to bring her home..." His words trailed off.

With another look at the girl with his eyes narrowing, he turned around and stumbled back into his room. Distinct mutterings could be heard: "My son is going too damn soft..."

He snapped the door shut.

Draco let out a low breath of relief. His father was no fool; if it weren't for the fact that he was slightly drunk, he would have known who Granger was by her hair. He only hoped that he wouldn't mule over the physical appearance of Granger in his room. Lumbering toward his room, Draco kicked the door open and went inside, placing Hermione on the sofa.

Grabbing a wrapping paper from his shopping bag, Draco began to wrap up his presents. He only brought 2 gifts. One for his mother and one for his father; needless to say, Christmas at his household was pretty uneventful. The special dinner was the only thing he relished about special days, anyhow.

Having placed the presents beneath the Christmas Tree, Draco stretched back on his chair, feet on his desk. He began to gaze upon sleeping Hermione. Her face now a normal color, with her lips a healthy shade of pink. His Warming Charm did its job.

He began to wonder aimlessly. His day was pretty ordinary and boring before he had this "brilliant" idea to bring this bookworm to his home. Just exactly why did her bring her home? Was he really daft, to think that his long-time enemy and rival will suddenly become his friend by bringing her to his home? In his defense, he probably saved her life, but he wasn't quite sure whether she would share his viewpoint.

Just who was he fooling? After she wakes up she'll probably go back to that Weasel... Which brought up another question. Just where were her bloody friends when she was sitting on a street, drunk? Did they know where she was? Why was she drinking in the first place anyhow? He didn't exactly know Granger as a type to drink, let alone to the point of being smashed. What exactly happened that day? So many questions, so little answers...

Draco stood up and walked toward his bed, jumping on the covering. Well, even if something did happen that day, - he thought as he snuggled in the layer - it couldn't have been that bad...

* * *

Draco lay on his bed, being awakened rudely by the taste of his mouth. Failing to go back to his sleep he sat up on his bed, stretching toward the ceiling, yawning. Sun shined through the window as the birds chirped on the trees.

He glanced toward Hermione to check that she was still there. She was in exact same position when he placed her on the sofa. Stepping off of the bed, he slowly stumbled to the bathroom.

As Hermione stumbled onto the sidewalk and sat down, covering her face with her knees, dozing off, she distinctively remembered herself wondering what would happen to her.

To sum it up, she was tired. Of everything. She suffered too much... She wanted it too end.

Her confusion when waking up in a warm room was self-explanatory. She deeply inhaled the covers, taking in its scent. Fresh Pinewood, it seemed like. Blinking her eyes, she took in her surroundings. A room inside a house she never seen before, yet it reminded her of something...

Sitting up on her bed, she stretched, turning her eyes around the room. It was an ordinary room, with magical objects and parchments and quills. To say that she was surprised would be an understatement when the door on her left banged open. Her war instincts caused her to whip around, taking out her wand and pointing toward the door subconsciously. Her gaze met a young boy with a towel wrapped around his waist, with nothing on his torso.

They stared at its other for several seconds, stunned, until Hermione opened her mouth.

"You got some explaining to do." Hermione said, her wand never wavering. "Why am I here?"

"Chill, Granger." Draco coolly raised both of his hands. "All I saw as you sleeping on the street, drunk. I did you a favor you know. You could have died of pneumonia."

**"Then you should have left me alone!"** Hermione cried in burst of rage. "Left me alone to die! I should have known that a nosy ferret like you would intervene! You didn't do me any favor! You only continued my wretched life!"

"If you wanted to die," Draco replied coldly, dropping his hands. "Stabbing yourself would have been better. Decided to take the easy way out, have you? How cowardly." Draco sneered.

**"Shut. Up!"** Hermione screeched. "You have no idea what I went through! You still have your parents, don't you? Have a line of girls, just waiting to date you, don't you?"

Parents? What? "What are you on about Granger?" Draco asked, confused.

Hermione closed her mouth as she realized that she placed her foot in her mouth. Dropping her gaze, she focused aimlessly on the floor.

"Just let me leave." Hermione mumbled. "I just want it to end."

"Nope." Draco crossed his arms. "I am not about to let you leave in this kind of condition."

"Since when did you care?"

"Since you began to shout nonsense. You would do better explaining your words."

"I don't have to explain anything to you!"

"And I'm not forcing you to. But it's common etiquette to accept requests from someone who offered you hospitality." Draco sat down on his bed, covering his torso with another towel.

"I don't feel like talking." Hermione sat up, leaving the blanket on the couch. "But I am hungry."

"Go wash yourself first." Draco drawled. "You look like hell."

Hermione huffed, conjuring a towel. "If you take a peek..." She trailed off threateningly.

"I'm not a pervert, Granger."

Casting a look of doubt in his direction, Hermione walked into the bathroom.

* * *

She would never admit it, but the food at Malfoy Manor was top quality. She helped herself to hearty amount of curried mutton, drinking from her goblet every now and then.

"You must have been starving." Draco muttered, poking his food. "What, couldn't afford a good meal?"

She made an exasperated noise through her food. After swallowing it, she asked:

"Do your parents know?"

"Nope." replied Draco, popping the p. "Ignorance is bliss."

"...So why did you bring me here?"

"Why do you have so many questions, Granger? I'll answer yours when you answer mine."

Setting down her plate on the table, she sighed, her eyes shining. Slowly a steady stream of tears rolled down from her eyes.

Cripes. He had no idea what to do with women crying. He was used to girls trying to seduce them, not crying. What was he supposed to do, hug her, grab her ass? He didn't know.

"Before we began our quest for the Horcruxes," Hermione began, her voice thick, "I modified my parent's memory. I made them forget who I was, and that they were just a couple without children, with a lifelong dream to live in Australia." She choked back a sob. "It was to protect them."

"It worked, by the way." Draco informed her. "Voldemort was right angry about the fact that he couldn't find them. He wanted to keep them hostage."

"After the war was over I tried to get them to regain their memory." Hermione's voice was reduced to a mere whisper. "I should have known that it would fail."

"...Why?"

"I made them forget eighteen years' worth of memory. From the time of their consummation until the time I erased their memory. It was simply too strong. I'm surprised that it didn't unhinge their mind. And... They had a baby."

Draco nodded, his expression morose. So that was what happened.

"But you found that out months ago. Why drink now?"

"Yesterday," Hermione replied, her voice becoming hollowed. "I found out that there had been a car accident. They are currently in comatose... The baby was safe, she was in backseat. She is in custody of my dad's friend."

Mmm. So that was why she was smashed drunk.

"So where are Potter and Weasley? Aren't they supposed to be taking care of you?"

"Harry, well he is busy with ministry and cleaning up the mess, isn't he? And Ron - well... He is dating Pansy." She finished lamely.

"Parkinson!?"

"Who else?" Hermione gave a heavy sigh. "I don't want to intrude on their relationship. They look so happy."

Some friends those bozos were, Draco bristled. "Come on." Draco said as he stood up, grabbing his cloak. "Let's go."

"...Go where?"

"Outside." Draco simply replied. "It's Christmas, and you are not going to mope inside. And I am not about to let my parents know about your presence."


End file.
